The smoke from the grenade was still clearing when the sounds of more sirens began to overlap from every direction. Fury was leaning heavily on the hood of his SUV, his face pale from the whatever internal damage the crash had caused.
"We gotta go," Fury rasped. He was clutching his ribs. "Backup... my guys are five minutes out. Theirs are already here."
He wasn't wrong. Two more black sedans were moving through the stalled traffic on the overpass above us. I picked up my bag of tea and looked at the mess of his truck..
"Get in," I said, nodding toward the passenger side of his wrecked truck. "I'll drive."
He didn't argue. He just scrambled into the passenger seat, his teeth gritted in a pained wince. I got behind the wheel. The front end of the SUV was jammed tight against a cruiser and a concrete barrier. It wasn't going anywhere.
I didn't bother with the keys. I just looked at the wreckage in our way.
The sound was loud and grating as the cars shoved themselves aside, clearing a path to the ramp. I put the truck in gear and hit the gas. The engine let out a rough, sputtering noise, but it moved.
Behind us, the sedans followed. They weren't hiding anymore.
As we hit the center of the bridge, the lead car surged forward for a PIT maneuver. I didn't swerve. I watched the rearview mirror as a figure climbed onto the roof of the chasing car.
Then he leaped.
The roof of the SUV buckled with a thud. A metal fist punched through the ceiling right next to Fury's head, the fingers snapping shut on nothing.
I slammed the brakes.
Hard.
The momentum sent the guy flying over the hood. He hit the road at sixty and skidded, digging his metal hand into the road to stop himself. He left a jagged trench in the pavement before he came to a dead stop. He stood up slowly as his mechanical arm got adjusted.
I stepped out of the car.
"Stay put, Nick," I said.
The man didn't run like a normal person. He moved in these explosive, heavy lunges. He pulled a knife and swung it at my throat. I moved my head just enough, feeling the cold air as the blade passed. He followed up with a punch from the mechanical arm, a strike so fast it was just a blur.
I didn't move my feet. I just caught his fist.
The impact made a sharp, nasty crack. His eyes widened behind the goggles. He leaned into it, his arm whining as it tried to push through my palm, but I didn't budge. I just held him there.
"You're working pretty hard for people who don't even know your name," I said.
He didn't say anything. He tried to pull back, but my grip was a vice. He swung the knife with his other hand, but I wasn't looking at the blade. I just let the pressure in the air expand.
Everything went quiet.
The strike teams getting out of the cars behind us just... froze. One guy dropped his rifle; another slumped to his knees, gasping for breath. The sirens, the wind, the noise of the city- it all just died.
The man's breathing got ragged. He stopped fighting and just looked at me, looked at my red eyes.
"Your name is James," I said.
He flinched. Not like a soldier, but like a kid who'd been hit. The whirring in his arm started to stutter, and the lights in the metal joints flickered out for a second.
"James... Buchanan... Barnes," I repeated.
The mask didn't break, but the guy behind it did. His stare shifted from that empty look to this frantic, agonizing confusion. He looked like he was drowning in his own head.
"You're a ghost, James," I said. My voice was low, but it carried in the silence.
I let go of his arm. He didn't try to hit me again. He stumbled back, his metal hand clutching the side of his head like he was trying to keep it from splitting open. He looked at his own hand, then back at me, his chest heaving. He looked lost.
"Go," I told him. "Think about why you know that name."
He stood there for a second, then turned and bolted. He cleared the bridge railing in one jump and disappeared into the trees.
I turned back to the SUV. Fury was staring through the shattered glass, his eye wide. He looked at the soldiers still kneeling on the road, then at the empty spot where the man had been.
"What did you do to him?" Fury asked, his voice a bit shaky.
"I just give him a choice," I said, getting back into the driver's seat.
I started the engine. The silence snapped as I pulled back the pressure, and the noise of the city rushed back in.
"Georgetown?" Fury asked.
"Georgetown," I said.
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